


twisting the kaleidoscope behind both of my eyes

by hazandboo_write



Series: holding on to you [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blindness, M/M, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:11:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazandboo_write/pseuds/hazandboo_write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry's cute and curly and blind, louis's not, they meet at a wedding, and then out for yogurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	twisting the kaleidoscope behind both of my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> (translation links in series description) edit: thank you guys so much for all the lovely feedback, yall are so sweet! i just finished another oneshot, I Think It's Been Three Years (Suspended In Time), so now that that's over I'll be writing a sequel to this asap. love yall and thank you xx

Louis feels ridiculous.  His shirt is this painful white, and his khaki trousers are baggy at the waist.  His mum had tried to insist on taking them to a tailor, but Louis refused to let her spend unnecessary money on a piece of clothing bound to be eaten by the monster in Louis’ closet within the next few weeks.  And anyways, they were sort of on their own now that Mark had left them, and even Jay’s extra shift and Louis’ new job at one of the local sports authority stores aren’t enough to by the girls nicer school shoes.  So no, Louis did not go to a tailor.

He’d thanked Liam profusely for watching the girls, but as he shuffles around the church lazily, he can’t help but wonder what they are up to.  He fishes his phone out of one of the deep pockets of these stupid trousers and sends Liam a text to check in.  Of course, Liam assures Louis that the girls are all fine, the twins and Fizzy cuddled up on the couch and Lottie pretending she’s not watching the film ( _Monster’s Inc._ ) from the doorway.  Louis smiles a bit at that before pocketing his phone and making his way up the aisle.  People have already started to file into the place, sitting down on the pews daintily so as not to wrinkle their dresses or precious suits.  He knows he’s probably not supposed to be pushing past people gently, but Louis just really wants to see the alter.  It’s not like the groom is standing around or anything.  Really, he’s not disrupting a thing.

Eventually, Louis sees his mum enter the church, waving at him madly.  He trudges back to her side, a loud creak coming from the wood beneath when he sits down.  He tries not to overthink that, cheeks an annoyed shade of pink.  “So you said hello to the bride, then?” he asks his mum, feigning interest. His mother’s face lights up, and she pushes a bit of her meticulously curled hair behind one ear, smiling.

“She looks absolutely stunning, Louis.  Her dress is this magical beaded piece, I’m telling you.”  Jay’s eyes are wide, and Louis is trying his hardest not to frown.  He nods along as his mother goes on. “Thanks for coming with me, Lou.  Anne really wants to meet you,” Jay adds when she’s finished, grin on her face.

Louis raises an eyebrow.  “I have yet to do that, actually.”  He decides not to roll his eyes because they’ve already been over why they’re here, they have, but Louis still just doesn’t really get it.  This Anne woman must just be very friendly.  Why else would she invite the nurse that saved her fiancés life to her wedding?  Well, when Louis thinks about it that way, he kind of understands, but.  Why she would extend the invitation to all of his mother’s children, Louis still isn’t sure.  Of course, Jay had thanked Anne profusely, saying _yes, of course I’ll come!  How lovely!_ , but it was not a surprise that Jay had decided it best not to bring the girls.  They are sort of a rocus, Louis knows.  Point is, though, Louis still finds it strange that this whole Jay-saving-Anne’s-soon-to-be-husband had turned into a hesitant friendship with Jay meeting Anne for coffee once before Anne was suddenly inviting Jay to her wedding.  It isn’t like the women really know much about each other, honestly.  It is all just very confusing to Louis.  Louis had only agreed to come because, well, his mum had had the biggest smile on her face, and because she had promised it would just be one simple ceremony and an hour at a reception to be polite.

Louis sits patiently through the entire ceremony, humming his agreement when Jay babbles on about how _absolutely lovely Anne looks_. He stands when he’s meant to stand, claps when he’s meant to clap, and smiles when he’s meant to smile.  By the end of it all, he’s supposing it wasn’t really all that bad.  He and his mother are some of the first to exit the church, since they were sitting in one of the back rows, and Louis shuffles after his mother as they cross the road and enter the small restaurant Anne and her husband had rented out.  

After about ten minutes, Louis loses his mother in the crowd, and walks around with his hands in his pockets until he can find an empty table.  People are sitting all about the place, leaning over tables and laughing with each other like they haven’t felt so good in ages.  Louis just really wants to sit alone.  He finally finds a table a little off to the left, where a lonely boy sits with his curly head bent, probably texting under the table.  Louis hesitantly makes his way over, pulling out a chair and asking, “Is it alright if I sit here for a moment?  This seats aren’t, like, saved for anyone?”

Surprisingly, the boy sitting across the table looks up at Louis from behind dark sunglasses.  Louis sort of wonders why on earth the guy would be wearing sunglasses indoors, even if it was midday and sunny out.  The boy just shrugs one skinny shoulder.  “Suppose not,” he says, voice lower and deeper than Louis would have suspected.  Louis stands there awkwardly for a moment, watching the boy watching him, before sitting down.  What a warm welcome, he thinks to himself.  The boy goes back to fiddling with whatever he’s fiddling with under the table, and Louis just sits there impatiently, looking around for his mum.

When the silence gets to be too much, Louis claps his hands down on the table and the boy across from him jumps.  Louis wants to apologize for frightening him, but he doesn’t.  “So,” he says grandly.  “Your mum drag you to this, too?”  The boy with the curly hair just sort of looks at him, and after a moment his lips sort of lift at one corner.  He shakes his head, still half-smiling.

“You could say that,” he mumbles sort of shyly, pushing a bit of hair away from his face.  “My mum’s the bride, actually,” he says.  Louis quiets for a moment, and then suddenly he is laughing out loud.

“Oh,” he says, eyes searching until they land on Anne, who’s now dancing about on the makeshift dance floor in her husbands arms.   “Why aren’t you out there dancing?” Louis asks, turning back to the boy.

“Um.”  The boy sort of freezes, mouth now in a taut frown.  He sort of bends down to the side, head disappearing under the table.  Louis watches, confused, and bites back a sympathetic little laugh when he hears what he assumes to be the boy’s head bumping up against the underside of the table.  He _does_ laugh when he hears a muffled string of expletives.  Finally, the other boy pops up again, holding a cane in one hand.   He places it down on the table, and Louis just sort of lets another, much quieter _oh_.

“Yeah,” the guy says into the silence, hands wringing together awkwardly.

“I-” Louis just kind of sits there, eyebrows knit together in thought.  “Well,” he says finally. “Doesn’t mean you don’t get to have any fun,” he says, probably sort of insensitively, he’ s not really sure.

The boy is just looking at him with that goofy frown on his face.  Well, Louis supposes he isn’t actually looking at him, and there he goes with the insensitivity again.  Finally, the boy just sort of shrugs and says, “Not sure I even know how to anymore,” voice hushed.  Lous nearly whines at the way his heart clenches.  
“Nonsense.  You can dance, can’t you?”

The boy’s maybe shaking a tiny bit now, and Louis knows he should shut up, he really does, but he doesn’t.  Shut up, that is.  “Not somewhere I’m unfamiliar with.  I could, like, wreck the place.”

Louis just chuckles.  “I’m sure that’s not what you meant, but hey.  I’m sure you could.  You certainly give off the party vibe.”

The boy smiles a tiny bit, and Louis stupidly gives him a thumbs up he can’t see.  “Sure, sure.  But, like.  I can’t.”

Louis is quiet.  “What if you danced with me?  If I take the lead, and all,” he says, voice questioning.  He’s not really quite sure why he’s pushing things, but.  He supposes he’s just a sucker for a lonely boy at a cheerful wedding.

“I’m supposed to be hanging out with my sister, but I kind of lost her a while back.  And anyways, I don’t even know your name,” the boy finally says.

“Louis Tomlinson.  My mum  worked with your mum’s husband when he was in the hospital.”

The guy nods like he knows who Jay is. “‘M Harry.”

Louis brightens, straightening up a bit.  “Well, Harry,” he says, sort of pushing up out of the chair and almost tripping over the stupidly long table cloth. “Would you care to dance with me?  I’ve been told I’m quite the shimmy-er.”  Lous makes his way around the table and holds out a hand for Harry to take.  Harry sort of turns on himself a bit.  Louis gently places a hand on the other boys shoulder with flaming cheeks.   _The boy’s blind_ , he chants to himself.   _He can’t see your fucking hand, dolt._  Harry’s shoulder is warm through his dark grey shirt, and he grabs clumsily at his cane before gently shrugging away from Louis and properly righting himself.  Louis gulps a bit.  The boy is sort of tall, taller than Louis suspected he would be, in that still-room-to-grow, stretching out sort of phase.   Harry stands there, sort of swaying, before placing his cane back down on the table.  Hesitantly, he holds out a hand for Louis to take.  Louis slips his hand into Harry’s warm one, and swallows at the way Harry’s hand sort of covers all of Louis’.  

“Alright then, Harry.  And we’re off,” Louis says dumbly.  He starts to tug Harry along, but the other boy just sort of stands there, routed in place with bright red cheeks.

“I, uh,” Harry fumbles.  “Could you maybe tell me where we’re going, like.  Sort of tell me when there’s a table to my left or something?”

Louis squeezes Harry’s hand.  “Of course. So we’re gonna walk about five paces forwards,” Louis says, and they walk.  “Alright, now I’m sort of leading you to the right a little bit, watch it, there’s a rowdy table of drunkards to our left.”  Harry sort of laughs at that.  “Alright, then two steps forwards, two steps back,” Louis jokes, squeezing Harry’s hand again.  Harry squeezes back, and Louis glances up at him with a smile on his face.  “I’m kind of smiling like mad, by the way.  Anyways, let’s turn to the left a little bit, and there!  We’re at the edge of the dance floor, but, uh.  People are sort of staring,” Louis says, and _god he’s so fucking stupid._

Harry just bites his lip.  “That’s alright.  Do you see my mum anywhere?”  
Louis sort of tugs Harry along, pushing gently through the crowd of dancers, stopping once or twice when Harry’s breathing gets sort of erratic.  “Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he says, voice hushed.  “I promise it’s alright, everyone’s just dancing around having fun.  You’re okay,” Louis says, turning to face Harry.  Slowly, he lifts one hand to place it on Harry’s shoulder, and he pulls Harry a little bit closer.  “I’m taking you to your mum, she sees us now, she’s coming over,” Louis narrates dumbly.  “I’m standing, like, directly in front of you,” he adds. “You sure you’re okay?”  People have cleared out of the way a bit, a few looking on at Louis and Harry curiously, and others just smiling at them with knowing faces.

Harry just sort of huffs out a breathy laugh.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m grand.  And I know, Louis, I can feel you,” he says, smiling a bit.  “You’re shorter than me, aren’t you?”

Louis scoffs.  “Well, yes, but surely I’m older!” he exclaims, sort of raising onto his tiptoes.  Harry’s hands are on Louis’ upper arms, and he grins wildly.  Louis’s heart nearly drops into his stomach at the sight.  “‘M 18” he adds, sort of begrudgingly.

Harry smiles and nods a bit.  “Right, well.  I guess we balance each other out, then,” he says, right as Anne walks up to them.

“H, darling, what are you doing?” she exclaims, a tight smile on her lips.  “I thought we agreed you were going to stay with Gemma?”  Harry just sort of shrugs at her, and then she’s turning to Louis.  “Hi,” she says loudly, voice certainly betraying the smile.  “You know my son?” she asks.

“Mum,” Harry groans, reaching out a bit clumsily to put an arm around Anne’s waist.  “Mum, it’s fine, this is Louis,” Harry is mumbling, but Anne just shakes her head.

“I thought we agreed, H,” she repeats, eyes still on Louis.

Louis sort of coughs, backing away a bit, but one of his hands is still in Harry’s and the other boy doesn’t let go.  “I’m sorry,” he says, eyes probably wide. “I didn’t mean to-  I just thought,” Louis nearly chokes with embarrassment.

“Mum,” Harry interrupts.  “Please.  It’s okay, we’re just dancing.  This is Jay’s son, Louis.  He said he’d take care of me, I promise.”

Louis nods along, cheeks warm.  “Just dancing,” Louis parrots, scooting a bit closer to Harry.  “Unless that’s not…?” Louis trails off.

Anne glances between the two of them suspiciously, hands on her hips.  “Alright, yeah, okay,” she says finally, huffing out a breath and holding a hand out for Louis to shake.  “Nice to meet you, Louis,” she says belatedly.

“Yes, yes!  You too, Mrs. Twist,” Louis says, a bit too eagerly.  “You look lovely, the ceremony was lovely,” he rambles, shaking Anne’s hand perhaps a bit too passionately.

Anne just raises her eyebrows, tight smile sort of melting away, eyes growing soft.  It’s a much more natural look on her, Louis thinks.  “Thank you dear,” she says, and suddenly she’s pulling Louis into a light hug.  It’s maybe kind of awkward with Louis’ hand still in Harry’s, surely pretty sweaty by now, but he hugs her back just the same.  “Be careful with my son, please,” Anne whispers in Louis’ ear.  She floats away after that, a wide grin on her face that almost perfectly matches Harry’s.  The whole crowd turns to watch her go.

“Your mum’s, like, glowing,” Louis says to Harry, voice cracking a bit.

Harry’s nose wrinkles cutely, and suddenly his hands are groping blindly until they find their way around Louis’ neck.  Louis tries not to stiffen at the sudden contact, and he places his hands on Harry’s hips.  “I’m sure she does,” Harry says.  “I can sort of still remember her face, you know,” he whispers.  Harry’s face sort of twists after that, as if he’s said too much.  

“She looks a lot like you actually, or I guess you like her,” Louis just says.  “You’ve both got these big, happy smiles.  Same hair, too,” Louis says.

“You think so?”

Louis smiles, digging his fingers into Harry’s hips a bit.  “Absolutely,” he says.  “You’re both, like, really beautiful,” Louis adds matter of factly.

Harry stiffens.  “Really?” he asks, voice hushed.  Louis nods even though Harry can’t see him, and they start to sway a bit.  Louis thinks he catches his mum’s eye over Harry’s shoulder, but he just sort of gives her a shrug and a smile.  “Sometimes I wish I knew what I looked like,” Harry mumbles.

“I can tell you,” Louis says.  “No one’s ever told you before?”

Harry shakes his head, frown on his face.  “They have, yeah.  But, like.  I dunno.”

“Well, I’m sure I’ll probably be pretty shit at it, surely no better than the rest, but.  I can try?”  Harry just tilts his head a bit, so Louis continues. “You’ve got a killer jaw, mate.  And like, sort of pasty skin?”  They both giggle.  “But it’s nice, though.  And your mouth is sort of big, like, huge actually.  But your lips are like weirdly dark and it's sort of gorgeous and your smile is really toothy and really refreshing.  I wish I had lips like that, mine are just sorta,” Louis shrugs, knowing Harry can feel it. “And obviously your hair is atrociously curly.  It’s delightful, actually.  All springy.  And it's a dark brownish color, and I can’t see your eyes but I bet those a pretty, too,” Louis says.

Harry just sort of quiet for a moment.  “I keep my glasses on so that I don’t creep people out, really.  My eyes kinda go in different directions, they like.  They don’t look at you when you’re speaking,” he says.

Louis hums.  “Do you blink?”

Harry nods.  “I could see when I was younger, but it was always a little bit blurry.  As I got older it just got worse and worse until they eventually couldn’t make glasses for me anymore.  I can still see blended colours, sort of.  If that makes sense?’”

Louis thinks for a moment.  “Kind of.  What colour are they?”

Harry’s hands sort of clench a little, and he sort of digs his fingers into Louis’ neck.  If it were any other time, Louis would think it was sort of an intimate gesture.  “My eyes?  Green.  Mum says they’re like sea glass, but I think she’s just trying to flatter me.”

Louis really wants to ask if he can see them.  “Can I see them?”

“Um.”

Slowly, Harry lowers one arm and slips his glasses down his nose a bit.  Louis watches as his eyes sort of jump around a bit, before finally settling right around Louis left ear. Louis blinks.  “They’re actually kind of exactly like sea glass,” Louis says.  “I kind of couldn’t have found a better way of describing them.  You’re sort of really beautiful, Harry,” Louis says, voice firm.  He nods grandly for effect.  “Can you see anything at all?” he finds himself asking.

Harry just shakes his head, eyes dancing around Louis’ face.  “No, but.  I can tell you’re right in front of me.  It’s not exactly a silhouette, but like a blob?  Or less-dark darkness.”

“Eloquent,” Louis snorts, but he’s certain Harry can hear the smile in his voice.

Harry just smiles.  Eventually, they stop talking and Louis sort of twirls Harry a bit, and they’re a hilariously fumbling mess that almost everyone at the reception is watching.  “People are watching,” Louis breaths, still laughing from when Harry stepped on his toe.  He hadn’t stopped apologizing.

Harry giggles.  “I can sort of feel it.”

Louis laughs.  “Me too, kid.”  And they continue to dance, Louis wrapping his arms around Harry from behind and teaching him how jig. Harry teaches Louis a clumsy tap dance that makes Louis snort. Then they both do a bit of a tango, sloppy and lovely.  

At some point, a girl with long wavy brown hair comes up to them.  She has a Mona Lisa smile, Louis notices.  But when she wrinkles her nose at the two of them, just like Harry periodically does, Louis just smiles and hold out his hand. “You’re Gemma?” he guesses, voice loud.  She kind of gives him this strange look but nods and smiles. “I’m Louis,” he nearly shouts.

“Nice to meet you.  I’m here to take H away, I’m afraid.  He’s got to go help Mum and Robin and I cut the cake like a proper family,” she says.  Harry arms fall limply to his sides, and Louis frowns at the lost of contact but shakes his head, squeezing Harry’s hand once more.

“I’ll see you around then, Harry?” Louis whispers into his ear.

Harry nods, patting Louis’ side awkwardly.  Louis isn’t quite sure what he was aiming for.  “Yeah, I’ll see you around, Lou,” he says, right as Gemma leads him away.  Louis hardly sees him but once more throughout the whole rest of the reception, and he goes home with his mum without even a goodbye.

 

It’s been six weeks since the wedding.  Jay has gone out with Anne once, twice after today.  Both times, Louis has maybe asked Jay to ask Anne about Harry.  It isn’t that Louis normally does this, this whole obsessing over a boy he met for all of two hours.  In fact, Louis normally does not obsess about anyone, ever.   He hardly even called Hannah but once a week when they were dating.  There are about three actual friendships Louis puts any actual effort into, his and Zayn’s, Liam’s, and Stan’s.  That is about it.  But maybe Louis’ tired of the same old drinking games and footie matches.  Not that he doesn’t love them, he does.  He loves his boys like he loves his family, honest.  But Louis’ never met anyone blind before, so.  Excuse the curiousity.

The second time Jay goes to hang out with Anne, she asks Louis about his fascination with the other boy.  “Lou, please understand he’s not some science experiment.  He’s not around for your entertainment,” she says.  Louis sort of gets enraged at that, mostly because there’s a part of him that wonders if what his mum is saying is true.  Jay sees the stricken look on Louis’ face and backs away a bit.  “I’ll ask for him,” she says finally, grabbing her bag and locking the door behind her.

Louis isn’t sure what is going on with him.  Either he had a stupid sort of crush on the boy, or he is a sick, curious bastard.  Louis decides that he neither has nor is, and takes the kids to frozen yogurt with a frown on his face.  He lets the twins pump their own yogurt, but has to pull Phoebe’s hand away before the cup spills over.  He lets Fizzy get a cup of fruit, instead, because she’d rather eat from the toppings bar than from the actual yogurt machines.  He gets plain vanilla with strawberries and hot fudge for himself and puts together a cup of mango for Lots, who’s sort of sitting at one of the tables with a scowl on her face, texting madly.  The total comes out to be about how much he makes in a day, and he nearly chokes on a fucking berry at the price, but hands over his money reluctantly because it was _his stupid idea to buy the girls unnecessary shit._

The girls sort of sit around, well, Fizzy and Lottie sit. The twins run around a bit before deciding they’re old enough for their own table, thanks.  Louis is just about to tell his sister to put the damn phone down and tell him what’s wrong when Daisy is suddenly tugging at his arm.  “Lou,” she breaths hotly into his ear. “Louis, that boy has a cane,” she whispers.  Louis nearly chokes again as he looks up, startled

And there, standing by the yogurt dispensaries, is a curly headed boy on the arm of a disheveled blonde guy.  “Harry,” Louis sort of says, barely loud enough for himself to hear.  He contemplates saying something, louder this time would be nice, but Daisy’s still poking him in the ribs with childish wonder.  He breathes out through his nose, a bit frozen. “Yeah, Daise, looks like it,” Louis says offhandedly, eyes still on Harry and the boy he’s with.

Louis’ sort of so focused on watching the way the blonde boy is whispering in Harry’s ear and making the other boy laugh like a seal to notice his other sister.  That is, until she’s standing right in front of Harry, smiling up at him with a crooked, toothless grin.  “Pheobe,” Louis yelps, cheeks flaming.  He fumbles out of his chair and basically rushes to her side, ready to apologize profusely and pull her away.

Before Louis can grab at his sister’s arm though, Harry crouches down and extends a hand out in front of him for Phoebe to take.  She just slips her hand in his, eyes wide. “I use it so I don’t crash into things when I’m walking,” he’s explaining, shaking his cane lightly.  “And these,” he says, tapping the glasses on his nose, “I wear because I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?” Phoebe whispers in response, sort of stumbling aside when Daisy bounds over and shoves up next to her sister.  Louis knows he should say something, he does, but he’s just sort of frozen, watching as Harry explains patiently.  He sort of looks up, and makes eye contact with the blond guy.  He’s grinning wildly, eyes lit up all happy.

“‘M Niall,” the guys say in a thick Irish accent, nodding at Louis over his-sisters-and-Harry’s heads.

“Louis,” he says, trying to smile.

Harry sort of jumps a bit at that, and nods once at whatever Daisy’s babbling on about before straightening up.  “Louis?” Harry says, hand half-outstretched. Louis doesn’t hesitate, grabbing Harry’s hand and giving it a light squeeze.  Harry’s head is tilted, a frown on his face.

“Hey, I’ve been asking about you,” Louis kind of blurts, because he’s just really fucking stupid.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Harry sort of coughs a little, and Niall raises his eyebrows.  Louis’ sisters are staring up at them with big deer eyes, and Louis’ gulp is audible.  “I know,” Harry says, head bobbing a bit.

Louis’ heart nearly drops into his stomach. “Oh,” he says.

“I-” Harry hands Niall his empty cup, and Niall turns away to fill it with yogurt as if he can read Harry’s mind.  “I’m sorry about that, I just.  I sort of figured you were just asking to be polite, you know?  Don’t want to hurt the blind guy’s feelings and all,” Harry’s saying, arms wrapping around himself nervously.

Louis shakes his head wildly like Harry can see him.  “I’m shaking my head wildly,” Louis says, voice forcefully light.

Harry sort of chokes out a laugh at that, nodding a tiny bit.  “Well, um.  Hi,” he says, and Louis can’t stop from smiling.

Daisy pokes at Harry again, right in the side.  “Harry, why can’t you see?  Is it because you’re blind?  But you can hear me, though.  How do you know my brother?” she asks, voice high and sweet.

Harry chuckles, Louis pinches his sister’s arm, and Daisy yelps. “We met at a wedding,” Harry laughs.

“How romantic!” Phoebe squeals, spinning a bit.  Louis and Harry both laugh, and Louis reaches out to pet some of her hair away from her face.

“Babes,” he says gently, patting the twin’s heads simultaneously.  “Why don’t you go sit down with Fiz and Charlotte and finish your desserts, alright?  I’ll be there in a mo, I just want to talk to Harry for a minute.”  The girls pout a bit, but Louis sees Lottie waving her phone at them in offering.  The girls totter away, making grabby hands.  Harry wrinkles his nose, and Louis suspects there’s crinkles by his eyes, too, but he’s not sure.

Louis struggles a bit, not sure what to say, but then Niall’s heading over with yogurt in his hands, and Louis’ laughing madly at the giant bowls he carries, filled past the brim with every sort of candy and whipped cream you could possibly imagine.  Niall licks at one of the dripping ones and leads Harry and Louis over to a table a row down from the girls.  “So, Louis,” Niall says around a mouthful, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Don’t do that,” Harry cuts in as a warning.  “Don’t wiggle your freaking eyebrows, Ni,” he says.

“Fucker!” Niall yells, and.  At least he has the decency to apologize and glance around at the smaller children with an ‘oops’ look on his face.  “How in hell do you always do that, Haz?”  Harry blindly (puny but not funny) socks Niall in the side, sending him sputtering and laughing.   “Point is,” Niall continues, “Is that I’ve certainly heard things about you, assuming you’re Louis From Anne’s Wedding.”  Harry’s cheeks are a dark red, and Louis supposes his are too, but perhaps for a different reason than Harry’s.

“All good, I hope?” Louis says, feigning casualty.

Harry’s hands are splayed on the table in front of him and his yogurt sits untouched. Louis acts like his stomach isn’t growling, and fights the urge to look over Niall’s shoulder and shoot heart eyes at his yogurt.  He hasn’t eaten all day. “Of course,” Harry says, tapping his fingers lightly.  Before Niall can say anymore, Harry asks Louis about his sisters.  “Those are your sisters, no?”  Louis makes a sound of affirmation, and Harry smiles.  “How old are they?”

Louis straightens a bit, watching his sisters as they giggle and dance around, all of their heads crowded around the phone Lottie’s holding, probably watching some dumb clip on youtube.  “The twins, who you were speaking to, those are Daisy and Phoebe, they’re five.  There’s also Felicite, she’s nine, and Charlotte is eleven.  They’re all here, but it’s just that the twins are the overbearing ones, the other’s aren’t so bad,” Louis says, smiling.  He tries not to squint too hard at Harry’s glasses, but he can almost make out the shape of his eyes and, well.  Louis likes Harry’s eyes.

Niall, grabs onto Harry’s arm and whispers in his ear, loud enough for Louis to hear that he’s about to take a piss and maybe smoke a bit off a blunt in one of the bathroom stalls in the back of the shop.  Harry’s nose wrinkles and his cheeks go pink.  “Ni?” he asks, mouth sort of turned to the side.  Niall just gives Harry a look that Louis swears Harry can see, or at least feel.  “You’re gross,” Harry says, laughing.  Niall just huffs and bounds off in the direction of loo, and Harry tilts his head in Louis’ direction.

“You’re still here?”

Louis snorts.  “Wouldn’t you have heard me if I’d gotten up?”

“Good catch.” Harry cocks his head to the side before smiling again, lips stretching over straight white teeth.   _You have a nice smile_ , Louis wants to tell him, over and over.  So he does.

“You have a nice smile.”

Harry’s grin nearly splits his face in half.  His hand kind of flops onto the tabletop, fingers curled upwards as if just sort of waiting there.  Louis slips his fingers through Harry’s, tapping his knuckles.  “Still here,” Louis says.

Harry giggles.  “Yeah, I know.”  Louis catches Lottie’s eye over Harry’s shoulder and his sister raises her eyebrows, blatantly glaring at his and Harry’s entwined fingers.  Louis huffs.  “Hey, Louis?”

“Hmm,” Louis hums.

“What do you look like?”  Harry’s cheeks are red again.

There’s a beat of silence, and Louis thinks.  Mostly, he thinks about what it would be like to be blind.  He thinks about why Harry isn’t freaked out by him, not being able to even see him and all.  He thinks about what he looks like.  “I have this gloriously tan skin for an Englishman, it’s like right royalty skin, I think,” Louis says.

“Actually-” Harry butts in, and Louis bites his tongue. “For hundreds of years royals basically painted on white makeup to look even paler than they already were, cos that meant they were wealthy enough not to have to go outside and work in the sun. basically.  Tan skin actually sort of meant you were a hard worker, a peasant most likely.”

Louis lets go of Harry’s hand and swats his wrist a bit.  “I don’t even… Just.  Whatever, Harold, don’t need to be a jerk about it,” but he’s laughing and Harry’s nose is wrinkling again and Louis _really really_ likes Harry’s smile.   “ _Anyways_ ,” Louis continues, as if Harry’s done him a great disservice in interrupting him.  “I have these stunningly beautiful blue eyes, like a fucking sea of dreams or some shit-”

“Shut up,” Harry giggles.

“- and like a stupidly thin upper lip.  Bottom, too, actually, now that I think about it, but.  It’s dumb.  And my mum says my face is sharp like my wit but I think she’s just set out to make me feel special.  I have lightish brown hair, I suppose, it’s sort of perpetually messy and gross because I sort of don’t really care about it much, since it gets messed up during footie practice all the time anyways.  And I should probably shave more than I do, cos like.  Sometimes the girls don't let me kiss ‘em to bed cos they say I’m scratchy.”

Harry’s watching Louis intently, or at least he’s _listening_ intently enough.  “I’m going to ask you something very strange now, alright?” Harry says, scratching his head and pushing a curl away.

“A generous eight and a half inches,” Louis says mildly.

Harry kind of chokes on a gummy bear.  “What I was going to say was,” Harry says, coughing a bit.  “That.  Um.  I was going to ask if I could, like, touch your face? It helps me, uh, like imagine and remember people more?"

Louis laughs, a bit surprised.  “So like you see people without your eyes cos you’re blind so you see them with your ears and hands and stuff, I get it.  Real poetic shit, mate.  Alright, sure.”

“I should probably go wash them first-” Harry says, fumbling to stand up.  Louis just lightly grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down a bit.  

“It’s fine,” Louis says warmly, grabbing Harry’s hand.  He pulls a tiny little hand sanitizer from his pocket (thank god his mum’s a nurse) and washes Harry’s hand for him.  It’s an oddly intimate thing to be doing, Louis sort of supposes, but he guesses that that’s just what things are like when you are with a blind person.  You can’t rely on being able to see yourselves and each other, you have to get to know each other through gestures and touches and tastes and smells and stuff.  Louis hopes he smells okay.  He guesses he probably tastes okay, too, but he doubts that’ll be coming up.  “Alright,” Louis says again, nodding his head firmly.  “Have at.”

There’s a frown on Harry’s lips, and Louis nearly coos at the cuteness, watching as Harry concentrates on running the back of his hand along Louis’ arm and up past his neck to rest lightly above Louis’ left cheek bone.  “Hi,” Harry breathes.  He runs one knuckle along Louis’ cheek, and then the other.  Gently, his fingertips run along the lengths of Louis’ jaw, then down the bridge of his nose, along his hairline, over his eyebrows, right below Louis’ closed eyes (and right above them too, until Harry’s fingertips are resting lightly on Louis’ eyelids).  Finally, Harry’s hand, the back of it, runs along Louis mouth, and they both sort of freeze.  Again with the intimacy, Louis thinks, head sort of clouded.

Louis thinks he sort of wants to kiss Harry’s palm, so he grabs for Harry’s hand and turns it.  He gives his hand a quick kiss, and before Harry can pull away with flaming cheeks, Louis’ tongue shoots out and licks Harry’s palm.  Harry nearly shrieks, pulling back and giggling like a madman.  They’re both laughing.

Harry starts to say something, but then Fiz is quietly padding over and Harry freezes, because _spidey senses_.  Louis watches Fizzy shuffle over with her hands behind her back, face hesitant as always, and Harry just sort of listens, Louis supposes.  “Lou?” comes his sister’s tiny little voice.  

Louis runs a hand through her hair.  “What’s up, brat?” he asks fondly.

She smiles up at him, tugging a bit of hair behind one ear.  “I told mum I’d finish my book today so I wouldn’t stay up all night reading.  Can we go home now?” she asks, voice soft.  Louis nods because _course we can Fiz, you finish all your yoggie?_  Fizzy just wrinkles her nose.  “Don’t call it that, Louis.”  Both he and Harry laugh.  Fizzy turns to Harry then, eyebrows creased.  “Is Harry coming back with us, too?”  There’s the most curious look on her face, and Louis sees similar ones painted on the other girls’ faces, too.

Harry chuckles. “Nah, babe, I’m here with my friend Niall,” he says politely, trying to tilt his head in her direction.  He gets pretty close.  “Thanks for thinking of me though.  I don’t think we've met yet?  I’m Harry,” he says, holding out one hand.  Fizzy shuffles to the side a bit, because Harry’s arm is extended in a direction that she is most definitely not standing in, and shakes Harry’s hand firmly.  Harry grins, and Fizzy sort of smiles back too.

“I know,” Fizzy says.  “Daisy and Pheobe told me.  I’m Felicite But You Can Call Me Fizzy,” she says in one breath, as if she’s used to saying it over and over.

Harry smiles at her.  “Would you mind pointing my hand in the direction of your brother?” he asks politely, and Felicite finally grins.  She grabs his hand again and tugs his arm so that he’s point right in Louis’ face.  Her face is smug.

“Is Harry gonna be your boyfriend, Lou?” she asks, only slightly teasingly.  Louis wants to smile because that’s just such a kid thing to say.  All affection is love to them, no matter if it’s between a boy and a girl or a boy and a boy or a girl and a girl.  Louis doesn’t smile, though, because he’s too busy being embarrassed.

“That’s TBD business, Fizzy,” Harry says conspiratorially, before Louis can respond.  “To be determined, kid,” he stage-whispers, brushing some hair away from his face.  He’s still facing Louis, and Louis is sort of kind of thankful Harry can’t see him right now, as awful as that is.  Louis’ pretty sure his cheeks are flaming from the comment, but also because he’s just really infatuated with Harry and quite likes the sound of TBD business.

Felicite giggles, throwing a hand over her mouth in mock-surprise.  The closeted drama queen, she is.  “Louis’d be a good boyfriend, I think.  He bought Hannah lots of gifts,” she says, as if that determines all.

Louis tries to grab Fizzy.  She giggles and sidesteps him, walking backwards with her hands up in the air.  Louis almost laughs, but he’s too busy trying to be annoyed.  “Sounds like a catch,” Harry laughs, voice deep and gravelly and quite lovely.  

Right before skipping away, Fizzy grabs Louis head with both little hands (tugging a bit too hard for Louis’ liking) and whispers hotly in his ear, “Ask Harry on a date Louis, he’s pretty.”  She giggles as she skips back to the others.  Louis’ cheeks are warm, and where the hell was that Niall guy?  Both he and Harry stumble into standing positions, and Louis grabs Harry’s arm to steady himself as much as Harry.

“So are you going to ask me on a date, then?” Harry grins, curls falling back into his face, partially covering his glasses.

Louis huffs.  “I guess I have no choice,” he responds, surprising himself.  Louis does not normally ask random boys he barely know out on dates.  In fact, he really can’t think of a time he ever has.  But this is Harry, and Louis never really liked a boy before, not like he likes Harry, so he supposes it’s only fitting that he takes Harry out on a date.  He likes the idea of going on a date with Harry, he thinks.  He likes Harry’s voice and his lips and his kind smile.  He wants to take Harry out on a date.

Harry’s smiling widely, and he grabs his cane off of the ground to better right himself.  “I guess not.  Suppose you’ll just have to ask me for my number, then.”

Harry recites it without waiting for Louis to respond, or even pull out his phone.  Louis has to chant it under his breath as he types it into his contacts ( _Harry! The Hottie!_ , the contact reads). He sends a simple _hiii harry it’s louis i’m standing opposite you. you look sexy._  He wonders whether Harry’s bulky phone can customize what voice reads out his messages.  He’d like to think Harry would have picked a weird Russian chick’s voice, if that was even a thing.  He supposes it’s not, though. “So if I call you, you’ll respond, then?”

Harry just smiles.  “The girls are getting antsy, their voices are rising.  Niall’s standing right behind you so I’ll just-” Harry sidesteps Louis and uses his cane to walk past a table where two staring girls sit.  He stops when his cane taps Niall’s shoes.  “Ni?” Louis hears him ask.  

“How’d you do _that_ , then?” Louis asks, exasperated.

“Heard his footstep coming up behind you like five minutes ago,” Harry responds loudly, grinning wide, and Louis feels one of his sisters tugging him away.  “Bye, Lou,” he hears Harry call from behind him.

“Bye, Harry,” Louis says, rounding up the others and ushering them out the door.

His phone beeps just as he's finished buckling the twins in.   _Just thought it best you know, I like to be kissed on first dates. xx_

 


End file.
